One Last Run
by MichaelaRBrown
Summary: David "Lucky" Starr and John "Bigman" Jones install a hyperatomic motor on the Shooting Starr. And then, things go horribly wrong. They find themselves back in time, meeting a legend in the making-one they know they must not interfere with, for any reason.
1. Chapter 1

The _Shooting Starr_ came out of hyperspace with a jolt that sent its two-man crew flying against their restraints.

"Mars!" swore John Bigman Jones. "I'll never get used to that."

"If it's any comfort to you, neither will I," chuckled Lucky Starr, unfastening the restraints. "But do you really have to mention it every single time we Jump, Bigman?"

"For the foreseeable future." Bigman shrugged and followed Lucky to the visiplate. "Where'd we land?"

"I don't know yet, you crazy Martian. Take it easy." Lucky grinned and dodged Bigman's indignant punch.

"Crazy!" Bigman scoffed. "I don't think I'm the crazy one. It wasn't my idea to put a hyperatomic drive on the _Shooter._ That was all you."

Lucky chuckled under his breath. "I didn't hear you fight it."

"Well, no, not exactly..." Bigman squinted at the visiplate, stretching himself to his full five-foot-two height. "Wait, is that a station?"

"Well, I'd know if you would let me see... About the only part of you that lives up to your name is your head."

Bigman ignored the jibe. "Say, Lucky!" he exclaimed, jumping up in excitement. "It _is_ a station!"

Lucky raised an eyebrow, pushing the shorter man out of the way as gently as he could. "Hmm, I think you're right."

"I told you," Bigman said smugly.

"Oh, stop." Lucky went over to the panel, then let out a long, low whistle. "Galaxy."

"What? What is it?" Bigman ran over, frantic. "Good or bad news?"

"Which do you want first?"

"Good news. Definitely good news."

"All right. Well..." Lucky took a deep breath. "The good news is, we're still in the System."

"That's the only good news?" Bigman asked incredulously.

"Don't lose your boots over it." A frown indented itself upon Lucky's smooth, well-balanced, and as-of-yet unlined face. "The bad news is that we're on the outer edge of the System. We don't know if that station is a friend or foe, and they've probably already spotted us."

"So what are they waiting for?" Bigman tapped the holster on his boot subconsciously. "Radio contact?"

Lucky nodded.

"Well, what are _you_ waiting for, you big lug? Why don't you-?"

The taller man held up a hand. "Sh. I'm doing it now." He reached for the radio control. "Councilman David Starr, captain of the _Shooting Starr_, on this end. Please identify yourself and acknowledge signal."

"This is the United States Space Station _Endeavour IV,_" came the reply. "Signal acknowledged."

Bigman and Lucky Starr exchanged wide-eyed glances, frozen.

"Lucky," said Bigman slowly, "did we just hear him correctly? I don't believe we did. Because he just said _Endeavour IV, _and-"

"I'm not certain-"

"_Shooting Starr,_ this is _Endeavour IV._ Have you lost contact?"

Lucky's hands were shaking noticeably as he held down the radio button. His voice threatened to do the same. "_Endeavour IV, _this is the _Shooting Starr._ Requesting permission to tether airlocks and board."

There was silence for a considerable interval on the receiving end. And then: "Permission granted."

The airlocks connected without much of a hitch, beginning to equalize pressure on both sides.

"Lucky," Bigman whispered, and his voice was quivering. "How in space is this even possible?"

"I'm not sure, Bigman... But if there's one thing I do know, it's that we're going to find out."

###

Michael Donovan attacked his mop of red hair viciously with the palm of his hand and scowled when it jumped back into a state of shock. "Listen here, Greg. I've got a month's wages and a double-decker lettuce-and-tomato sandwich on the fact that they're pirates."

"You would bet food." Gregory Powell cracked a smile. "But they're not, Mike. All that coffee's getting the best of you." He paused. "And you ought to know better than to wager with me."

"Fifteen cents," Donovan muttered, knowing the other's betting limit. "Of course." He followed Powell out into the airlock, but not without grabbing a blaster first.

"But really, Greg, how do you know that they can be trusted? I've never heard of that _Shooting Starr,_ and I'm damned if I can sort out how they got a hyperatomic motor on that thing. Not enough mass."

"I guess we'll find out, hey?"

"Yeah? Well I tell you what, Greg. They say it's all worked out now, but you couldn't pay me enough to Jump again."

"Me too."

They both shuddered involuntarily, cringing at the memories the word "jump" brought back for them both.

"Well, come on, you redhead," Powell said suddenly, clapping Donovan on the back. "Let's go meet the neighbors."

In response, Donovan scowled and loaded the blaster.


	2. Chapter 2

"Would you mind explaining why you have that thing?" Lucky muttered under his breath. "You know as well as I do that you aren't going to need it."

"Don't feel right without it," Bigman said, tapping the holster – an almost subconscious reflex at the mention of its presence. "Sands of Mars, Lucky... _Endeavour IV!_ Of all the cruel tricks – "

"I know. It's got me puzzled too." The young Councilman frowned. "I think it's the hyperdrive. Positronic acceleration's a bit of a tricky business, you know. But it's just not possible..."

"Yes, I know." Bigman paused. "And how ironic is this?"

"Huh?"

"Well, think about it, Lucky. If we're right – and I'm not saying we are, because I still think one of us is dreaming or we've both lost it... Our positron accelerator breaks down and takes us back in time, to the _Endeavour IV,_ on the exact day that – "

"Guess so." Lucky's mouth quirked up into a smile as he opened the airlock. "Well, here we go. History in the making."

###

"How suspicious is this, Greg?" Donovan fumed. "First, they ship us off to Saturn, fixing some relay satellite that I'm about ninety-seven percent sure that the damned Titan colonists can fix themselves... And now this." He swiped at his hair. "I'm telling you, Greg. They've got it all planned out. They're cutting us off."

The other raised an eyebrow. "And _how_ many times have you said that in the past ten years, Mike?" He paused. "It's not, you know. I asked old lady Calvin for this one, and this one in particular."

He raised a hand as the other made a vague attempt at a question. "Hold on, Mike, let me explain. I asked for this one in particular, because it seemed least likely to produce a practical joker, or a drunk, or a religious maniac."

"First time in ten years we haven't been in danger of dying," Donovan muttered. "It's almost too quiet."

Powell nodded. "It's least likely to cause trouble – and I figured we could use one last go-around." He sighed. "Because the thing is, Mike... This is it. After this, I'm done. I'm retiring, because I'm getting married."

The statement rang in the airlock for a full ten seconds before Donovan would even look at him.

"So this is it, then?" he whispered, and there were tears in his voice. "The end of an era; the great team of Powell and Donovan... Done. Just like that."

Powell smiled sadly. "Just like that."

The chamber pressure was equalized now. Powell pulled the lever then, with a bit of effort. The air hissed in, the lever resisting obstinately in the artificial gravity.

He'd never seen Mike so quiet, Powell thought in half-amusement.

Donovan, for his part, was grateful for the noise. It helped silence the bitter thoughts – or, at the very least, it drowned them out.

###

The most unnerving thing about the encounter, Powell decided, was the symmetry of it.

Two men stood there, and it was like looking in a warped mirror. The taller man, like Powell, had dark hair and a lean build – though unlike Powell, he was clean-shaven. He had a steadiness to him that his companion clearly lacked. They balanced each other out – Powell knew that from experience.

And also like a mirror, the two redheads had their blasters aimed squarely at each other, despite their comical height difference.

Powell locked eyes with the taller man, who nodded.

"All right, Mike," Powell said softly. "Put it away."

"Easy, Bigman," muttered the other man.

Donovan scowled but did as Powell asked. The other followed suit.

"Hold on – " Donovan raised an eyebrow. "Your name is _Bigman?_"

The shorter redhead nodded curtly. "Is that an issue?"

"But you're – " This proved to be too much for Donovan, who burst out laughing. He seemed to calm down after a few moments, but it took him again. "I've seen a lot of things in the past ten years or so, but _this _– _ha! _This is just too much!"

Powell rolled his eyes. "My sincerest apologies. Mike doesn't mean any offense. He's got a very severe case of idiocy – we're looking into funding for a cure."

" – And those orange boots!" Donovan roared. "Those are the most ridiculous – "

The short man launched himself at Donovan. His friend held him back.

Perfect symmetry, Powell thought with a chuckle.

"I think it's the hair," he commented. "I'm Lucky Starr, by the way... I think we've pretty much covered Bigman here."

"Greg Powell... And this is Mike Donovan."

"Yes, we know who you are." Lucky grinned. "You two have got quite the reputation."

"So we hear." Powell grinned back. "But they don't let us home long enough to gather the details." He paused. "It's not going to do us any good standing in here, you know. They say these things are stable, but I don't trust it." He jerked a thumb at Donovan. "Especially not with him here."

"Nothing good ever comes of a redhead having possession of a gun."

Powell laughed. "And yet we allow it anyway. Come on over."

"All right."

As they walked back through the chamber, Donovan caught Powell's arm.

"Seriously?" he hissed. "_That's_ why you're calling it quits? You're getting _married? _"

"Uh-huh." Powell nodded, looking a bit grim. "The astronaut's lifestyle doesn't go too well with that of a married man, you know."

"Hmph." Donovan scowled. "Well, after everything we've gone through, I'd better get a damned invitation."

"Are you kidding, Mike?" Powell cracked a smile. "You're my best man, you crazy redhead."


	3. Chapter 3

"All right, wait a minute." Donovan held up a hand. "Now how do we know you're _really_ from the future?"

"Well, what do you want to know?" Lucky grinned.

"You can't tell us anything," Donovan said in confusion. "That'd mess up the time continuum."

Everyone in the room stared at Donovan with blank expressions.

"What?" he protested. "I read – that's how it is in all of the books..."

Powell rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "I think you've been reading too many adventure novels, Mike."

"But they're from the _future,_ Greg!" The eagerness in Donovan's blue eyes was almost childish in its intensity. "They dropped out of hyperspace and ended up time-travelling!" He paused. "But what I don't get is how it's possible to go _back... _I can see _forward..._"

"OK, Mike, hand it over."

Donovan reluctantly supplied a thin pulp fiction magazine from the inner pocket of his jacket. "Fine, but I want this back."

Lucky nodded. "All right, so I'm not the only one who has to do that."

Bigman glared at his friend, who just laughed and put him into a headlock.

"OK, so you're accidental time travellers, if Mike's theory – if you can call it a "theory" without irony – holds up. But that doesn't explain why you have a hyperdrive on that thing," Powell said. "With that small of a mass... Legally, it's got to be about twice that size to Jump, and at three-quarters capacity or higher."

Bigman raised an eyebrow. "What's mass got to do with it?"

"That ship of yours is about the size of the one we Jumped in," Donovan put in. "You should have been D-E-A-D."

Bigman glanced at Lucky. "Do you have any idea what this cobber's talking about, Lucky?"

"Not the slightest," Lucky said, but he was smiling.

"Well you would have come back!" Donovan finished indignantly. "Simple etheric physics!"

"It happened to us when we Jumped," Powell told the other two. "Donovan seems to think it's unfair that no one else has had that experience."

Lucky snapped his fingers in realization. "That's it. You use the nucleus of the atom for your hyperdrive, don't you?"

Powell and Donovan nodded.

"Well, that's the problem," Lucky explained. "Because ours runs on positron acceleration. It's cleaner and faster – the smaller ships can Jump through hyperspace without a hitch. You get a bit of a jolt, but that's just the drop. But our hyperdrive's broken, somehow. We'll have to look it over."

"Mike, that's your department," Powell said. "Go have a look."

"Bigman, why don't you go with him?" Lucky suggested.

Donovan muttered a colorful phrase under his breath and stalked out to the tethering chamber, the shorter redhead behind him.

###

"So this is the ship," Donovan said simply.

Bigman nodded. "The _Shooting Starr,_ fastest ship in the Galaxy."

Donovan nodded in appreciation. "Galaxy, huh? We're still confined to the System."

"What year is this, 2025? Then not much longer." Bigman cracked a smile. "Big universe out there."

"That it is." Donovan glanced around. "So, where's this positron accelerator?"

Bigman led him down to the engine room, which was aglow in emergency lighting. "I think it's been sapped. It seems to me that travelling backward is going to take more energy than going forward."

"Makes sense." Donovan paused. "Does this work like a proton accelerator? You know, colliding the positrons into one another and feeding off the kinetics?"

"Uh-huh." Bigman tossed Donovan a pair of goggles, putting on a pair for himself. "You may want to put these on... You and Powell both from Earth?"

"Yeah. And let me guess, you're not." Donovan adjusted the goggles, blinking in the suddenly dark room. "Damn, these don't let any light through, do they?"

"Born Martian and proud." Bigman nodded. "And you'll be grateful for the dark presently. It's going to get bright."

Bigman threw the switch, and the accelerator opened itself with a brilliant flash of light.

"Looks like it's still operational," Bigman chuckled. "It's even trying to run... I'd guess it's trying to finish our trip. Doesn't have anything to play off, though." He paused. "Now why are you running backward?"

"Positron accelerator," Donovan muttered. "Why positrons?"

"Because it's easier to smash those together than to split an atom in half and have nuclear waste." Bigman sighed, closing the accelerator. "Nothing seems to be wrong with it. I'll have to get Lucky to take a look at it."

"Hey!" Donovan protested. "You didn't even let me look!"

"Future technology, remember?" Bigman chuckled. "You wouldn't want to break the timestream, now would you?"

Leave it to that little half-pint to hold the futurenaut business over his head!

Donovan rolled his eyes. "Fine, I'm going back. I need to eat something anyway."


End file.
